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If I call you beautiful…

Do flowers bloom within your worried eyes
surrounding you with color, with thoughts
Looking past the mirror to that place you have been,
that you long to be again

Do you bite your lip,
looking within, seeking past the darkness,
subconsciously smoothing the ruffles of you dress,
shuffling your feet a bit

Do memories flood your mind
of days before lipstick and eye shadow,
when cute was as common as wrinkled nose smiles,
playing inside or out were your choices

Do you roll your eyes and sigh,
describing a portrait that only you can see,
a mirage of impressions you have collected,
stored away in that file you reach for regularly

Do you brand me blind or crazy at least,
point to that one tiny blemish you know,
turn and walk away kicking dust as you go,
shutting the door in disbelief

Or do you see your reflection in my eyes
the woman that you are to me,
hear the affection in my voice, the truth
and wrinkle your nose once more and say, “I love you”

I can't write like you do
I can't really compose
Grace has always eluded me
In movement and in prose

You write of such big things
But they are still all the same
Me? I can't really toy
With ideas so insane

I'm not a professional wordsmith
My art hasn't been trained
When I write, the words flow easy
Unabashed and Untamed

You and your words are sculpted
Precisely, with finesse
But with a subdued gloss and lack luster
So twisted so suppressed

And now I see my dear self
Finally in a clear way
Not in my movements or in the glass
but on my inked page

So if you ask me, dear self
Which cage do I choose?
I'd choose my dented brass one
Instead of your golden noose.

What comforts you
at 3 am on a Wednesday night
when the darkness traps you in your bed,
straps you down by your wrists and ankles,
whispers words of loneliness down your neck?

What comforts you
when you're out of options
and thoughts of forever consume your soul
burning and destroying every ounce of will you have left
until fizzling out leaving smoldering ashes in its wake?

What comforts you?
Is it a pet?
A song?
A person?
A dream?

He comforts me
at 3 am on a Wednesday night
when the darkness traps me in my bed
straps me down by my wrists and ankles
whispering words of loneliness down my neck.

He comforts me
when I'm out of options
and thoughts of forever consume my soul
burning and destroying every ounce of will I have left
until fizzling out leaving smoldering ashes in its wake.

He is there to comfort me
on the darkest nights
patiently rekindling the flame of hope
hidden in the darkest corners of my soul.
Providing light,
giving warmth,
pushing down walls,
all so he can comfort me.